


Show Me How To Follow You, and I'll Obey

by thefairfleming



Series: The Threesome in the North [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/F, F/M, Plot What Plot, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairfleming/pseuds/thefairfleming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Jon, Sansa, and Val are all married, and Jon watches Val teach Sansa something new. Basically, Smut Happens.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Show Me How To Follow You, and I'll Obey

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We Are All Hours, We Are All Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/432656) by [honey_wheeler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler). 



> Jon, Sansa, and Val are all married, and Jon watches Val teach Sansa something new. Basically, Smut Happens.

Jon hears the singing first.

It stops him in his tracks there outside his chamber door. The day had been long, and his head is full of thoughts, responsibilities, everything that being Lord of Winterfell entails. 

Or at least it had been full of thoughts until that sweet, soft voice wiped every notion but one from his mind.

Sansa. 

When they were children, she sang all the time, and even then, her voice had twisted something inside of him. Now, the effect is much more...potent, and Jon almost doesn't want to open the door lest he startle her into stopping.

But then he hears other noises: the soft splashing of water, and underneath Sansa's trilling soprano, another voice, lower, huskier, humming in harmony. 

And suddenly he cannot be in his chambers fast enough. 

The sight that greets him is enough to make his knees go watery, and he is glad he is clutching the door. Surely, there is not enough blood left in his legs to keep him upright. 

A large copper bathtub sits in front of the fire, and in it are his wives. Gods, his wives. The thought will never cease filling him with wonderment and awe and more lust than should be healthy for a man.

Val leans back, her honey curls piled on top of her head, knees raised and poking above the water. Sansa lies between Val's legs, wet auburn hair nearly black, her head on Val's collarbone. Her eyes are closed as she sings, and Jon watches, his mouth dry, as one of Val's hands moves beneath the water. He can't see Sansa's breasts, but he can tell when Val runs her fingers across a nipple. Sansa's song vanishes in a throaty sigh, and Val chuckles, pressing a kiss to the other girl's temple. 

Strangely it's this kiss that affects Jon, even more than the hand still clearly caressing Sansa's breast. He loves Val, and more importantly, he knows her, perhaps better than any other woman. So he had been worried when Daenerys insisted he take both Val and Sansa to wife, afraid that Val would only see Sansa as a soft and pampered kneeler. 

But he should've known her better than that. Val looked at Sansa and saw what Jon himself saw- a girl whose softness cloaked a core harder than Valyrian steel, a girl who longed for love and beauty, but who was smarter and shrewder than anyone gave her credit for. 

So while Val caressing Sansa is perhaps the most arousing thing he's ever seen, it is nothing compared the genuine affection- the love- he sees in that simple kiss. 

Val lifts her gaze then and sees him standing there. One brow raises. "And how long have you been standing there?" she asks, and Sansa startles a little, opening her eyes. When she sees Jon, her cheeks grow pink and she sits up, lifting her head from Val. 

But Val merely wraps an arm around Sansa's waist and pulls her closer. "If you're going to be in meetings and councils and gods know what else all evening long, you can't blame us for starting without you."

Her tone is tart, but there's a smile playing on her lips and Jon cannot help but smile back, thinking that no man should be this fortunate.

"Val asked me to sing for her," Sansa offers, and there's a shyness in her voice, tinged with a bit of defensiveness. She's embarrassed, Jon realizes. And afraid I'll be hurt to see her thus with Val.

The three of them have only been married a little over a fortnight, and while this arrangement has been far, far better than Jon had ever dared hope, there are still times he feels very much at sea. Since their wedding, it has always been the three of him in his- their-bed. He has not taken Val without Sansa there, nor have he and Sansa ever coupled alone. Something about the idea of it feels...wrong.

Val, of course, would laugh if he told her that, but he suspects Sansa feels much as he does if the guilty way she avoids his eyes is anything to go by.

"Your singing is lovely," he tells Sansa, crossing the room. "As is...," he pauses, taking a deep breath. The room smells of herbs and warm water and both of his women, and gods, they're both so, so beautiful. "This."

His chair is right up against the tub, and Jon realizes that Val- it had to have been Val- moved it there on purpose. He sits, his shins brushing the edge, so close he could dip his fingers in the water. "There," Val says happily. "Now aren't we better than a bunch of dusty old lords?"

Jon leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Had I realized that this would be the sight that awaited me, I would've told those dusty old lords to go hang."

Grinning wickedly, Val leans further back, pulling Sansa with her. This time, Sansa sits higher in the water, and Jon can actually see Val's fingers rolling one nipple between thumb and forefinger. Sansa's eyes flutter closed, even as she bites her lower lip, cheeks going from pink to red. 

"I told Sansa there was all sorts of fun we could get up to while you were otherwise occupied, but I believe she was afraid you'd be jealous. "

Val's tone is still light, teasing, but Jon meets her eyes and knows what she's really saying. Tell her this is alright. She needs to hear it from you. 

"Anything that happens between the two of you-everything that happens between the two of you- would bring me nothing but joy."

Sansa opens her eyes then, and Jon sees her settle back into Val's embrace a little more. "Truly?" she asks.

Jon tries very hard not to smile, but it's hard when her eyes are so big and blue, when her skin looks so pink and slick. "Truly."

Lifting one long leg, Val flicks her foot, sending droplets of water at him. "'Joy' is a very tepid word, my lord husband."

Jon laughs then, reaching down and flicking water back at her. "Very well. Anything the two of you do together drives me mad with desire. Fractures my very mind with lust. Scrambles all my thoughts with-,"

Val splashes him again and Sansa giggles. And then, as Val's hands suddenly come up and cup both her breasts, moans. 

"Perhaps," Val muses, her thumbs making lazy circles over Sansa's nipples. "we could show you the sort of things we might do together. To make sure you approve."

There is a glint in her eyes that promises truly wicked things, and Jon's cock is so hard it hurts. Still, he makes himself lean back in his chair and hold Val's gaze. "That would be...agreeable."

Rolling her eyes, Val dips her head and captures one of Sansa's earlobes between her teeth. "Is that alright with you, sweet girl?" she murmurs. "Can we show Jon all the things I'd like to do with you, just the two of us?"

Jon watches Sansa's throat move and feel an answering pulse in his groin. He knows what it's like to be seduced by Val, to slowly strip away all the things you thought were right and proper, to give in completely. He wonders if, that first time, his eyes looked as glazed as Sansa's do now. 

"Yes," she whispers, lifting one of Val's hands from her breasts and pressing the knuckles to her lips. "Oh, yes, please, Val."

Sliding sinuously through the water, Val moves out from behind Sansa, switching their positions so that Sansa is the one pressed against the far edge of the tub. As she raises up on her knees, Jon is afforded a remarkable view of Val's smooth back, the ridges of her spine, the soft curve of her arse. 

Val must be able to feel him watching, because she throws one saucy smile over her shoulder before turning her full attention on Sansa.

From his vantage point, Jon cannot see much, but when Sansa's hands come up and clutch convulsively on Val's back, it is somehow the most erotic thing he can imagine. Sansa's hands are small and delicate, and the way they move across Val's skin makes Jon's own nerves shiver in sympathy. 

The kiss grows hungrier, and both are making small, greedy moans and sighs, hips moving almost unconsciously. Jon presses the heel of his hand to his aching cock in the hopes of getting some kind of relief, but as though she can sense it, Val lifts her head and turns back to him. 

"I suggest you wait a bit for that," she tells him, her voice low. "We have not even properly started yet."

From behind Val, Jon hears Sansa breathlessly ask, "We haven't?"

Val's chuckle mingles with Jon's groan. "Oh, no, sweetling," she murmurs, leaning back so that now, she is at the edge of the tub nearest Jon. Her hair brushes his knees as she reaches up and takes Sansa's hands, pulling her on top. They kiss again, and this time, Jon has a much better view. Val's head rests against the edge of the tub, her hands cupping Sansa's cheeks. 

Sansa's lips move slowly, almost shyly, but Jon can see the pink flash of her tongue and her fingers flutter around Val's nipple.

Val lifts one knee, bringing her thigh between Sansa's legs, and when Sansa gasps, lifting her head, lips open in pleasure, Jon wonders if a man can actually die from arousal.

"Oh," Sansa whimpers as Val slowly moves her thigh back and forth. "Oh, oh, _ohhhh_."

"Doesn't that feel nice?" Val whispers. 

Sansa just nods, her breath coming faster.

"It feels nice to me," Val continues. She keeps the slide of her thigh steady even as Sansa's hips begin to move more frantically, trying to find the right amount of friction. "You're so wet, my lovely girl."

"We _are_ in the bath," Sansa offers, a touch primly despite the flush in her cheeks, the breathlessness of her voice, and Val laughs. 

"You Starks," she says fondly, cupping Sansa's cheek, and once again, Jon's throat grows tight at the look he sees in Val's eyes. "You will never stop surprising me, either of you."

Sansa smiles back before ducking down to capture Val's mouth with her own. When she lifts her head, her eyes meet Jon's. There's still shyness there, and a bit of hesitation even though her pupils are wide and dark, and Jon suddenly wants to reach out and touch her, to reassure her that seeing her with Val, seeing that she loves Val, is everything he could ever want.

But then Val moves her leg just a touch higher and Sansa drops her head, making a sound very near a squeak.

"You can touch me as well," Val says huskily, twining one of her hands with Sansa's and bringing it under the water. Jon cannot see what Sansa does, but Val give a start, twisting her body. "Oh, yes," she breathes. "Oh, just like that. Oh, gods, you lovely, lovely girl."

Jon cannot help but groan even as he curses the murkiness of the water for denying his the sight of Sansa's hand moving between Val's legs. What had they put in the bath to cloud it so? The smell of lavender and rosemary is heavy in the room, so Jon assumes it's some kind of bath oil. Whatever it is, Jon wants to see it banned, never again allowed in Winterfell. Perhaps never again allowed in Westeros.

Sansa laughs breathlessly, and her arm moves faster, water sloshing over the side of the tub, wetting Jon's breeches and boots, not that he cares. Tipping her head back. Val looks at him upside down, smiling in a hazy, drunken way. "I trust all of this meets with your approval, my lord?"

Jon leans down intending to kiss her, to show her just how much he approves, but Val sits up before his lips can reach hers. Sansa makes a soft whine of disappointment as Val's thigh falls from between her legs, but Val eases it with a kiss. "Shhh," she whispers when they part. "Soon, sweetling, soon. But not like this. There's something else I'd like to show our husband."

"What? Anything," Sansa murmurs, already reaching for Val again.

They sit facing each other in the bath, his wives, and Val presses her forehead to Sansa's. Jon cannot see their hands, but he thinks that underneath the water, they're intertwined. 

Val kisses Sansa's cheek, her ear, her throat. "Will you let me taste you, sweet girl?"

It takes everything Jon has in him not to yank them both from the bath at the mere suggestion, fuck them both there on the rug before the fire, bury his face in both their cunts until all three of them are breathless and wrung out and sated. And then do the entire thing all over again.

But he keeps himself very still. This is their moment, and he is meant to just be an observer, at least for now. Since they've been married, this is the one act Sansa has shied away from. She has watched him do it to Val, and he's seen the desire on her face, the need in her eyes, but the few times he attempted to kiss her there in that soft, sweet place between her legs, she had moved away or closed her knees or tugged him up for a kiss. 

Jon had never pressed it, nor had Val. There was time, he told himself. Sansa had been a maid when they wed, and now there were two people in her bed every night. It was much to adjust to, and the last thing Jon wanted was to overwhelm her. 

Sitting in the tub with Val, Sansa chews her lip again, and Jon sees need and shame warring on her face. He knows the feeling all too well. 

Her eyes flick again to Jon's. "Is that...is that something you would like to see?"

For a moment, so many variations of "yes," crowd Jon's mind that all he can do is blink at her. Then, finally, he manages to say, "Only if it is something you would like to _do._ "

Sansa turns her gaze back to Val, cupping the other girl's face in her hands. "Yes," she says softly. "I believe it is something I would like to do."

Val smiles in return before kissing Sansa. They kiss for a long while, arms twined around one another, and despite throbbing of his cock, Jon thinks perhaps he should leave the two of them alone. They need this time together, and as much as he wants to watch Val...oh, gods, just thinking about it makes him so hard he can barely stand. But stand he does. Let them have this-

He does not get any further than rising from his chair before Val, never lifting her lips from Sansa's or even opening her eyes, reaches behind her and fists one hand at the waist of his tunic. Giving a hard jerk, she pulls him back into his seat. 

Keeping her hand on him, Val finishes the kiss before turning to look over her shoulder at him. "Really, Jon," is all she says, and this time, he's quick enough to duck forward and press his lips firmly to hers. She kisses him back, the taste of Sansa still on her tongue, before shoving him away with a laugh.

But then Sansa is rising up on her knees and moving past Val to clutch him and he perches on the edge of his chair, kissing her as well. This kiss is different, as it always is with Sansa, and Jon tries to pour all he's feeling into it. 

Finally, Sansa pulls away, a shy smile playing on her lips and Jon settles back into his seat as the two women turn back to one another. They kiss for what seems like ages, until Jon thinks every time he closes his eyes, he will see the two of them, pink and white, auburn and gold, clinging to each other and wrapping around one another like vines. 

Val turns them in the water so that Sansa's back is to Jon, and while his fingers want nothing more than to push the heavy wet curtain of hair from Sansa's shoulders so that he can explore the delicate line of her neck with his lips, his teeth, his tongue, he stays in his chair, hands clasped in front of him. 

Moving forward, Val pushes Sansa against the edge of the tub, once again splashing Jon with water. The heady scent of it- and them- fills his nose, and Jon changes his mind about banning the bath oil. It may have obstructed his view earlier, but now he knows that every time he smells it, he will think of them, of this moment. 

Val works her way down Sansa's body, lips moving over her neck and the upper swells of her breasts. She helps Sansa sit up a little before drawing first one and then the other nipple into her mouth. Sansa's moan matches Jon's own as Val sucks at the tip of Sansa's breast, cheeks hollowing. When Sansa tips her head back, her heavy wet hair spills over Jon's lap, and even that is enough pressure to have his hips bucking slightly in response. Still, he keeps his hands to himself, wanting only to watch them.

Sansa's hips are moving under the water, and her head tosses back and forth, dangerously near to Jon's cock. "Oh, Val," she cries. "Oh, please. I...I'm ready, I want you to...,"

Val lifts her mouth from Sansa's nipple. Her cheeks are red now as well, and her eyes look nearly black in the firelight. "What do you want, my love?"

Sansa worries her lower lip again, and Jon has to fight to keep himself form soothing that bruised flesh with his tongue. "For you...for you to taste me."

Were Sansa Jon, Val would have made her say is again, only far filthier. Would have resisted until Sansa were begging for the crudest things imaginable. But Val knows, as does Jon, that now is not the time for such things. Later, perhaps. In fact, Jon thinks as he notes the gleam in Val's eyes, later for certain.

But for now, Val dips her hands under the water, clutching Sansa's hips and lifting her up slightly. "Put your legs over the sides of the tub," Val advises. 

Sansa braces herself at the end of the tub and gingerly dips one leg over, then the other. She is slight enough that it doesn't take more than Val's hands under her arse to support her, but Jon still moves closer to the edge of his seat, wanting to wrap his arms around her, to run his thumbs over her nipples. 

Val must see that on his face, because she throws him an arch look. "Your turn is coming."

Situated as he is at her head, Jon cannot see between Sansa's spread legs, but the desire that unfurls over Val's face is nearly as good.

"Oh, beautiful girl," she croons, going up on her knees, her hands still digging into the soft yield of Sansa's backside. "If you taste as good as you look, I may never give our husband a turn."

Sansa makes a needy sound, part embarrassment, part want, and then, finally, Val lowers her mouth to Sansa's cunt.

Jon is not sure if the groan that fills the air is Sansa's or his or Val's. Perhaps it is all three of them, harmonizing in desire like Sansa and Val had harmonized in song. 

"Gods," Sansa whispers, her voice reedy and thin. "Gods, this...oh, Val... _ohValohgodsohJon_...oh...,"

From between Sansa's legs, Val chuckles. "Neither Jon nor the gods have much to do with this, lovely," she says, lifting her head. Her lips and swollen and wet and pink, and Jon feels like he could spend in his breeches just looking at her.

Val catches his eye, her gaze heavy-lidded. "She does taste as sweet as she looks. Like herbs and honey and the sea...,"

"You are wicked," Jon tells her, wincing. He's not sure he's ever been as hard as he is now, and Val seems to know it. 

"I see now why you enjoy this so much," she tells him conversationally. "She feels so good against my tongue. Slick and hot, almost like a piece of fruit. And the taste of her really is the most-,"

"Please stop torturing Jon," Sansa breaks in, hips moving restlessly. "It isn't very nice and I would like you to continue what...what you're doing." Jon and Val both laugh, although Jon's is a bit pained.

"As my lady commands," Val agrees. She lowers her face again, and Jon is not sure which is closest to undoing him; the whimpers and moans Sansa makes, or the lovely, damp sounds of Val's mouth working on her. It does not take long for Sansa to begin to shake, for her hands to open and close convulsively on the edge of the tub. 

"That's it, sweet girl," he hears Val murmur between licks. "Let go, lovely. Let Jon watch you come apart. Let him see how good I make you feel."

With a high, keening cry, Sansa arches her back. Jon has seen her come before. He's made her come before. But there's something different about watching it like this, knowing that it's Val's mouth on her cunt making her shake and fall to pieces.

As she comes back down, chest moving, legs shaking, Sansa reaches one hand out. Jon takes it immediately, going down on his knees beside the tub, pressing kisses along her palm, her wrist. 

"You're beautiful," he murmurs against her damp skin. "You both are. You're the loveliest things I've ever seen, and I don't care if you kick me out of your bed altogether so long as I get to see this."

Sansa chuckles, and Val laughs outright. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," she tells him, sitting back in the water. As Val leans against the edge of the tub, expression smug, and Sansa drowsily nudges his head with hers, Jon once again wants to thank every god there is, old and new, for these two women. For the strange twists of fate that have brought both of them to him. 

Then Val raises her knees and sits up. "I believe," she says, glancing around her, "that this tub was actually made for three, not two. Sansa?"

Next to him, Sansa nods. "Yes. Oh, yes, most assuredly."

And then they are both on him, tugging him into the water, and Jon cannot think anymore of gods, or fate, or anything except the two lovely girls in his arms.

***

Later, the three of them lie in their bed. Usually, Sansa sleeps between Jon and Val, but tonight, it is Val in the middle, lying on her stomach, her breathing slow and soft. Jon and Sansa both lie awake, and Sansa pushes up on her elbows, observing the mess before the fireplace. The rug is soaked, as is Jon's chair, and there are still large puddles of water dotting the floor. 

"We're horrid," she says with a little laugh, and Jon laughs, too, softly so as not to wake Val. 

"We'll clean it in the morning," he says. "I'm too exhausted now."

Looking at him over Val, Sansa blushes again. He isn't sure how she can still look so innocent given all that the three of them had gotten up to this night, but he's strangely glad for it. He hopes she always looks thus. 

"I love you," he tells her. He cannot remember if he's said it before now. Words have never been his strong suit, but he hopes he's at least shown her how he feels.

Reaching across Val, Sansa takes his hand. "I love you, too," she whispers. And then she drops their clasped hands so that they rest on Val's bare back. "And I love her."

"As do I."

Slipping her hand from Jon's, Sansa rolls onto her stomach, pillow bunched underneath her cheek. As she runs her fingers lightly over Val's spine, Jon rolls to his side, propping his face in his hand. 

"She's kind," Sansa says at last. "I never would have thought it when I first met her, but she is. In her way."

Jon's fingers join Sansa's on Val's back. "She is kind," he admits, thinking of those long nights on the Wall, how Val had been the only thing keeping the cold from stealing into his heart. 

Then Sansa meets his eyes, a wry smile dimpling her cheek. "We should never tell her we think that, should we?"

Jon has to struggle very hard not to let loose a bark of laughter. "We should not," he agrees. "Not if we want to keep all of our fingers."

Snorting, Sansa skins her palm against Val's back one last time before settling back with a sigh. "So you really don't mind if she and I...,"

"I do not. In fact, I hope that you will. Winterfell keeps me so busy, and it would certainly give me something to think about during all those dull meetings."

"You had best be sure you hold those meetings while sitting down then, my lord. Preferably at a sturdy table, lest everyone know your mind is...elsewhere."

Jon would not have thought it possible to be stirred again, not after earlier, but the saucy tone of Sansa's voice goes directly to his cock, and he sits up a little, looking at her. 

Grinning, Sansa snuggles deeper into the bed, the motion pulling the sheet tantalizingly low on her hip. 

"Val is clearly a bad influence on you," he tells her, and she giggles. Then, just as quickly, her smile is replaced with seriousness as she says, "And you know I would not mind if you and Val were to...to be alone sometimes. There is no room for jealousy in such an arrangement, and...and I think the thought would also bring me joy."

"And I will not mind if the two of you fuck like rabbits all over Winterfell, and will frig myself silly to the thought so long as you both shut it and go to sleep now," Val mutters from between them, never lifting her head from the pillow. 

Sansa smiles before pressing a kiss to Val's shoulder. "As you command, my lady," she says. "Good-night."

Cracking one eye open, Val watches Jon. "You, too," she tells him, and Jon acquiesces, sliding back down in the bed and rolling onto his side. But as he does, Val curls around his back, her breasts pressing against his shoulder blades, her arm tight around his waist. He feels another hand against his spine, and knows that it's Sansa, wrapping her own arm around Val's stomach. 

_No_ , he thinks just before sleeps claims him. _No man should be this fortunate. But thank the gods that this man is._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Let Me Name The Stars For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/443333) by [honey_wheeler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler)




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